Honour Bound: A Sgt Major Crane Novel

by Wendy Cartmell

  “No, that’s true, I suppose,” said Crane pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Particularly as the bloke you’re in cahoots with, is getting away with it.”

  “Bloke? Cahoots? What are you talking about now?”

  “Your accomplice, lad. You must have had a partner in all this. Did you two think you could fool us because you’re so different? You being dark-haired and dark-skinned and him being blond.”

  Billy smiled and joined in, “Seems a shame for you to take the fall for all the offences, don’t you think, Lance Corporal?”

  “Sergeant Williams, is right, son. You’re going away for a long time. Stop shielding this other bloke.”

  “It’ll look good with the court-martial and with the Aldershot Police, wouldn’t you say, sir?” Billy was clearly enjoying himself.

  “I’d say so, Sgt Williams. So, what do you think, Yasin? Are you going to tell us who you’re protecting?”

  Yasin nodded a small defeated movement.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s not a bloke I’m protecting.”

  “Not a bloke?” Billy asked. “Surely it’s not a woman?”

  Unbelievably Yasin nodded his head in agreement.

  “You mean to tell me a woman has been involved in these vicious attacks? Are you having me on, Lance Corporal?”

  Crane had definitely been thrown a curved ball this time.

  “No, sir,” Yasin lifted his head and looked at Crane. “I’m not having you on and it’s not a woman doing the attacking. I’m telling you I’ve been trying to protect my girlfriend.”

  “What?” Billy and Crane said together.

  “My white girlfriend, sir, I was with her on the nights of the rapes. I was seen with her in The Goose. The blond girl I was talking to. She’s my long term girlfriend. We want to get engaged, but…”

  “But what, Lance Corporal?” asked Crane although he thought he knew what was coming.

  “My family don’t know about her. They think I should marry someone from Afghanistan. They’re very traditional in their values and their religion. They just wouldn’t accept me marrying a white girl. I’m not traditional, or religious and I just want to be allowed to live a normal western way of life. And…” Again Yasin trailed off.

  “And?” this time it was Billy prompting.

  “And I was afraid they might do something to her if they found out about her. So we are waiting until my next posting. She’ll follow me there and we can set up home together. It’s just too dangerous for us here in Aldershot, too many of my family live here.”

  By the end of his story Yasin had tears falling down his face. No wracking sobs, no hitching of his shoulders, just the tears. Crane wasn’t sure if Yasin was ashamed of trying to deceive everyone, including Crane and his parents. But one thing was for sure, it was Crane that felt ashamed. Ashamed of letting his unfounded prejudices get in the way of the truth.

  38

  During the past week, there had been no more messages sent to Kim and no further attacks on vulnerable girls from The Goose. However, Crane couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the end. They hadn’t caught the bastard, and it was clearly not Yasin, so either the rapist had moved on to another town, or was just taking a break. Why he should be taking a break, Crane had no idea, but he wanted to be ready, just in case. Which was why, on yet another Saturday night, Crane and Billy were in Aldershot town centre. It was 23:00 hours and they were sat in Crane’s Ford Focus, parked just around the corner from The Goose.

  They were cold, miserable and bored. Plus they were freezing their bollocks off, because Crane didn’t want to draw attention to their car by running the engine and having the heating on. Billy kept complaining of getting cramp in his legs from being scrunched up in the passenger seat. Crane couldn’t do anything about that, though. It wasn’t his fault Billy was over six feet tall. He really could do with a cigarette, but wouldn’t open the window and have one, because blowing the smoke out of the car, could again, potentially, draw attention to them.

  Crane was just beginning to agree with Billy that their surveillance was a complete waste of time, when his phone rang. It was one of the bouncers on the door at The Goose.

  “Some bloke has just left,” he told Crane. “He’s holding up his girlfriend, who was saying she doesn’t feel right. Can’t put my finger on it, but it looks wrong somehow. I’d say the bloke was completely sober, but trying to act drunk.”

  “Describe them,” Crane said.

  “Tall dark-haired bloke, with small blond-haired woman. She’s got a busty top thing on and he’s got on dark trousers and white shirt. They’re heading your way.”

  Crane closed the phone without saying good bye and relayed the info to Billy, who got out of the car and walked towards The Goose. Crane watched through the windscreen as Billy suddenly patted his pockets as though he’d forgotten something and began walking back towards the car. Instead of getting in, Billy walked on to the end of the road, towards the public car park.

  Just after Billy passed him, Crane saw the man and the girl walking towards the car. He slid down in the seat as they passed and hoped he couldn’t be seen in the dark. The man was indeed tall and dark-haired, but it wasn’t possible to make out his features in the dim light. He was pulling the girl along, trying to hurry her up. Crane watched through the rear view mirror as they reached the end of the road and disappeared from view. He started the engine in anticipation of Billy identifying a car for them to follow.

  Glancing out of his side mirror, Crane saw Billy running towards him and leaned over to open the passenger door.

  As Billy slid in he said, “Red BMW Mini just pulled out of the car park, heading down the road towards the station.”

  “Shit!”

  Their car was facing the wrong way, so Crane made the quickest three point turn he’d ever done and raced to the junction, where they needed to turn left to follow the Mini. As he was about to make the turn, a large Aldershot Town Council rubbish lorry pulled up in front of him, completely blocking the road junction.

  “Get out of the bloody way,” he shouted as he pressed the button to wind his window down.

  But the workers cleaning up the litter around the bin they were emptying took no notice of him and ambled off, following in the wake of the large lorry. By the time it had moved out of the way and Crane could turn left, the Mini was at the junction at the bottom of the road, turning right and going out of view.

  Crane raced down the road, ignoring the traffic lights which had turned red and slewed right, narrowly missing another car. As they climbed the incline and went around a bend, the Mini was nowhere to be seen. Crane stopped at the junction at the top of the road, looking left and right, but the only signs of life were a couple of taxis.

  “Shit.”

  Crane decided to turn left, away from the town centre, as he thought it the most likely alternative. As Crane drove, Billy scoured the road in front of and behind them and peered down each side turning.

  “Sorry, boss, nothing.” Billy ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it down after his run back to the car.

  “He could be miles away by now,” said Crane. “Those Minis are powerful, especially if it’s a Cooper or a Cooper S.”

  “Or he could have already turned into a driveway, or parked in front of a block of flats. We’ve no way of knowing.” Billy sounded despondent.

  Crane and Billy cruised around for another fifteen minutes, without catching sight of the red Mini, before giving up and going home.

  ***

  The first thing Billy said to Crane as he entered the barracks on Monday morning was, “Anything, boss?”

  “No, nothing,” replied Crane, who was already at his desk, going through his paperwork, before his briefing with Captain Edwards. For once the heating was working overtime in the barracks and Crane had taken his suit jacket off, which was now hanging over the back of his chair.

  “Well that’s good,” said Billy. “I kept
anticipating a call from you all day Sunday, but nothing came. So it looks as if there wasn’t anyone raped on Saturday night. Perhaps we got the wrong car.”

  “Or we got the right one, but because we lost him, another poor girl got attacked.”

  “We’d have heard something from DI Anderson if that had happened, boss.”

  “Yes, but only if the girl reported the rape. What if she’s too ashamed or frightened? Not everyone reports a rape to the police, you know. I’ve been reading up on it,” continued Crane. “It seems a lot of victims would rather suffer in silence than be subjected to the physical examination, or having to face their attacker in court, where the defence lawyers are only interested in pulling the victim’s character apart. Anyway, you only have to look at Seb Turner. Think about how long it took him to pluck up the courage to report Fitch.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right, sir. Either that or a victim is lying dead somewhere and no one’s found her yet,” Billy shivered. “Doesn’t bear thinking about,” he said as he ambled off. “Do you want coffee, sir?” he called over his shoulder.

  “No thanks, Billy. I’ve got to go and see Captain Edwards.”

  ***

  Crane knew he was in trouble, when Captain Edwards kept him standing to attention in front of the desk, before inviting Crane to sit. He wouldn’t have minded but the files he was carrying were bloody heavy. Preparing himself for a bollocking, Crane sat stiffly in his chair, placing his files on the Captain’s immaculate desk.

  “Ah, Crane,” said Captain Edwards, “glad you could make our meeting,” looking pointedly at his watch.

  “Sorry, sir,” Crane apologised, even though, by his own watch which he set by BBC Breakfast television that morning, he was on time. “Here’s my latest report, sir.” Crane handed over a single sheet of paper.

  Captain Edwards took a few moments to read it through, interspersed with a few “Ahs,” and “Hums.”

  Throwing the paper on his desk, and wrinkling his nose, as though it offended his sensibilities, Edwards looked up at Crane.

  “So,” he started, “if I understand the situation correctly,” here we go, thought Crane, recognising the opening words as a prelude to several derogatory comments about his work, “as of this morning, we’re nowhere on the rape and murder cases.” Edwards maintained his glare.

  “Well, sir, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

  “How would you put it then, Crane? I’d love to hear your point of view.”

  Crane opened his mouth to speak, but the Captain carried on.

  “Your suspect in the case, Yasin Whadi, has proved to be completely innocent of any involvement with any of the Aldershot cases, or any other Garrison investigation, come to that.”

  “Sir,” was all Crane could manage.

  “Also, the hair found on Madison’s body appears to have come from a wig made with the hair of a local man, again who is innocent of any involvement in any case whatsoever.”

  “Sir,” Crane responded, thinking that perhaps the Captain should have joined Legal Services. His oratory was a thing of wonder.

  “Sgt Weston is being stalked by her attacker and you have absolutely no idea who he is.”

  “Sir,” Crane had to admit.

  “And, finally, you lost a possible suspect on Saturday night. I think that’s everything,” Edwards once again peered at Crane’s report. “In fact, the only thing you’ve got right is Lance Corporal Fitch’s rape of a fellow soldier.” Edwards managed a sniff of contempt.

  “It would appear so, sir.”

  “Very well. I welcome your thoughts, in due course, about how you are going to proceed from here on in. Dismissed.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Crane hurriedly picking up his files and left before Edwards decided to give him a deadline. ‘In due course’, would do fine for now.

  A Letter to Billy

  Dear Billy,

  I suppose I ought to thank you for all the stuff you’ve done for me up to now. But the truth is I’m not at all sure I am thankful.

  To tell you the truth I’m very conscious of the fact that the court-martial is looming. That I’ll have to face Fitch in the courtroom and to be honest with you I’m shit scared.

  I know I’m doing the right thing by pressing charges, but he’s going to be there. In the same room as me. And I know his lawyer is going to try to rip me to shreds. Get me to admit we were in a relationship. Twist my words so they come out all wrong. Make out I’m a bad soldier. Say my reports don’t reflect how I acted in the Unit. In fact they’re going to throw everything they can at me, aren’t they?

  It’s going to be terrible. What if I have a flashback whilst giving evidence? What will all those high ranking officers think of me? I’m just going to embarrass and humiliate myself. I know I am.

  As if I’ve not been humiliated enough.

  39

  Crane sat in his office, reading the latest forensic reports in the case of the rape of Private Turner. He read, with some satisfaction, that the semen and saliva samples taken from Turner, just after the attack, matched the DNA of Lance Corporal Fitch. Not that there was any doubt, not with Staff Sgt Jones interrupting them, but it was still nice to have. He pulled over his briefcase and put the reports in with the rest of the paperwork on Turner and Fitch. Looking at his watch, he decided it was time to leave to go to the preliminary hearing of the court-martial of Lance Corporal Turner.

  The hearing was being held at Bulford Camp in Wiltshire, one of the permanent standing army court locations in the UK, so Crane drove to the nearest junction of the M3, then took the A303 straight through to Bulford, a journey of just over an hour.

  Walking into the court complex, he found the officer from the Service Prosecuting Authority who was dealing with the case, one Captain Lisa Nolan. A young, very attractive Captain at that, Crane thought as he tried not to eye her up and down. She did look a bit severe though, Crane decided, a bit like Kim when she was bristling for a fight. Crane hoped he’d see Kim looking just like this again, very soon. Captain Nolan’s words brought his attention back to the present.

  “Thank you for coming, Sgt Major,” she greeted Crane. “Not sure that I’ll need you, but you never know. Do you have those reports for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Crane replied. “The forensic reports confirm the DNA was from Fitch.”

  Crane put his briefcase on a nearby chair and clicked it open, pulling out a slim buff folder. He handed it over to Captain Nolan who added it to the large pile of papers she was holding in her arms.

  “Right, let’s go in shall we?”

  Crane followed the Captain as she swished into courtroom No 1. All ash furniture and natural sunlight, the courtroom seemed to make a mockery of the severity of the case to be heard in it. He looked around with interest, before the Civilian Judge Advocate and the members of the Board came into the courtroom. Crane was sat behind the Prosecuting Counsel, Captain Nolan and to the side of him was the defence table, where Fitch sat, looking extremely uncomfortable. Crane reckoned he was going to look even more nervous once the judge came in.

  A commotion made Crane turn from Fitch and he saw the door behind the top table where the board sit, open.

  “All rise,” said a disembodied voice.

  Crane along with every other person in the courtroom stood briskly to attention, not daring to breathe until the Judge and the Board took their seats, least any movement be construed as a failure to show the court the respect it demanded.

  After the formalities of reading out the case and introducing the lawyers took place, Captain Nolan rose.

  “At this preliminary hearing, I ask that the court make a date for the case to be heard against Lance Corporal Fitch for the rape and long term bullying of Private Turner, without further delay. The prosecution service is ready to present its case, sir. We can provide witness evidence to the act of rape, DNA evidence to support this act, together with further witness statements from other members of Turner’s Unit, testifying t
o the fact that Lance Corporal Fitch has been systematically bullying Private Turner over a number of months.”

  Crane saw Fitch sag in his seat a little further, with every blow from Captain Nolan.

  “Is there a particular reason for this haste, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. Private Turner and Lance Corporal Fitch’s Unit, are due to be shipped out to start their tour of Afghanistan on,” Nolan consulted her notes, “the fifteenth of next month, sir. As you can appreciate, it saves the court a great deal of time and trouble if we can hear this witness testimony in person, instead of by video link from Afghanistan, not to mention the disruption it would cause to a Unit on active service, sir.”

  “I see,” the Judge looked at his notes. “What do you say to this, Captain Forbes? Is the defence case ready?”

  Captain Forbes jumped to his feet, as if to show he hadn’t been caught napping.

  “Yes, sir, the defence is ready and we hope the court will look favourably on Lance Corporal Fitch’s willingness to have the case tried early.” Forbes managed to stand to attention whilst addressing the Judge.

  “Yes, yes,” the Judge swatted away Forbes’ words. “Is the representative from SIB in court, um, Sgt Major Crane?”

  The judge peered myopically at his notes, although Crane knew there was nothing wrong with the judge’s sight, hearing or intellect.

  Crane stood to attention. “Yes, sir.”

  “Ah, good, morning, Crane, I just want to confirm that SIB is also in a position to proceed. Is there any other line of enquiry you’re pursuing against Lance Corporal Fitch?”

  “Not at this time, sir.”

  “Good. Anything else you need to get ready to support your case?”

  “No, sir. All the evidence is now collected and in order, sir.”

  “Very well.” The Judge quietly consulted other members of the Board and the court clerk. Raising his head and looking directly at Lance Corporal Fitch, he said, “The date set for hearing is 15th November, in one week’s time, court is adjourned until then.”